All for the Love of a Dog
by Alamo-Girl1836
Summary: Dr. Drake Raymond (SHIELD'S psychiatrist) believes that what Steve Rogers really needs is a friend to help him cope with the stress and tramas of being thrown into a world he may never undertand. The good doctor's theory is tested when a lost dog hobbles it's merry way into Steve's world.
1. Chapter 1

**For the Love of a Dog**

**Chapter 1: Dixie**

_**A/N: This is my first story here on Fanfiction; I've been stalking for a while, and have now mustered the courage to join ^_^. Anywho, tell me what you think **___

_**Dislaimer: I don't own the Avengers- Just Dixie ^_^**_

Steve walked casually through the park, whistling under his breath. There weren't many people out and about; it being noon on a Wednesday. Steve contented himself with listening to a few birds calling out from their places in the trees.

The birds were disturbed by a blur of red that shot from a bush. A large, pregnant dog looked up at him, panting. Her eyes were big and brown, and her ears hung low. One large, mud-caked paw raked down Steve's left leg, dirtying his khaki pants. Steve stepped back in surprise when the dog lifted herself onto her hind legs, putting a front paw on his shoulder and licking his face.

"Whoa, there, get down, girl," Steve said, grabbing her paw and removing it from his shoulder.

He reached for the other, but grasped empty air as the dog let herself down. She looked up at him with a doggy-smile and a quiet woof. Steve gave her a half-smile in return as he dusted himself off. She looked to be a bloodhound, but had large spots of various shades of red and cream dotting her body and face. And she only had three legs. Her front left leg was completely gone, and her muzzle was scarred, like she had fought with other dogs a lot. Anger bubbled within him at the thought of such cruelty.

But the dog's temperament seemed all wrong to have been a fighting dog- she came up and greeted him happily, like he was a lost friend. He would think that a fighting dog wouldn't be so trusting, and would be cowed by the sight of a large human such as himself. As Steve pondered this, he patted the dog on the head, feeling her neck for a collar.

She had one- made of soft leather, and Steve looked briefly at the tag attached to it. _Dixie,_ it read. Steve turned it over, but there was nothing else to be seen. Dixie tossed her head a bit, causing him to let go of the tag, and put her head in his hand. She had obviously been loved.

"Dixie, huh?" Steve asked with a chuckle, scratching the dog behind her ear. "Where's your owner, girl?"

Dixie woofed and hobbled a circle around Steve. She was surprisingly quick on her three legs. Steve chuckled at the dog's antics. She seemed like a sweet old dog, and Steve thought it a shame for her to be roaming alone. But perhaps someone was looking for her; a kind person who'd be ecstatic to have their dog back. Steve patted Dixie on the side, and with these thoughts, looked around the park for anyone who could've been the dog's owner. What few people who had been in this part of the park had moved on. Dixie whined at his feet, looking up at him with sad eyes.

Steve patted her again, and the dog rewarded him with a thump of her tail to his leg. Looking down at the dog again, Steve stepped away and whistled for her to follow him. Dixie happily complied, and hopped along after him as he walked toward the entrance of the park and from then to his apartment. After all; it would be a shame to see such a sweet dog end up in a pound somewhere.

It then occurred to Steve that the dog would need food, and a leash. Of course, he wouldn't be keeping her forever, but until she could be returned to her owner, Dixie needed _something_. Steve knew of one pet shop near his apartment, but he was sure that unless she had a leash, Dixie wouldn't be too welcome. Maybe he could let her stay alone in his apartment while he got everything. But images of his living room being turned into a war zone of fluffy pillow and couch stuffing and broken glass banished the thought from his head. Dixie would have to go into the shop with him. As the pair neared the pet store, Steve hooked his fingers under Dixie's collar. The doors opened automatically, and a cashier glanced up at him with a bored expression. Dixie used what moving room she had to sniff at tanks full of fish and little fish food shakers. Fish and reptiles were near the front of the store, and to the sides were aisles of dog and cat products. At the back of the store were rodents and birds.

As Steve made his way to the dog section of the store, he caught a glimpse of the rodents caged in the back of the store. A small shiver went up his spine when a new thought sprang into his head. Perhaps Dixie wasn't a fighting dog. Perhaps instead, she was a hunting dog who had gotten caught in a trap. And if she was… All hell would break loose if she caught scent of the rodents in the back of the store. With this thought in mind, Steve quickly selected a long leash, two solid food bowls, and a ten-pound bag of food.

Dixie's eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared, and her ears perked up slightly. Steve followed her gaze directly to a ferret cage. Steve tugged a bit on her collar, walking quickly to the cashier's counter. The quicker they left the store, the better.

The cashier saw the trouble brewing and quickly scanned the items, taking Steve's money quickly and giving back his change. Dixie growled lowly as Steve pocketed his forty-two cents, and was about to slip from his grasp when the man quickly moved for the exit.

Outside the store Steve quickly leashed the dog, before leading her down the sidewalk with the leash and bag that held the food bowls in one hand and the dog food under his other arm.


	2. Chapter 2

_**For the Love of a Dog**_

_**Chapter 2: A Question of Masters**_

_**A/N: Sorry about the late update, I've been busy :P. Anywho, I hope y'all enjoy the story, and don't forget to review. Disclaimer: I don't own anything Avengers or Captain America**_

Three days had passed since Steve's discovery of Dixie. He and the dog got on well; and even had their own schedule unconsciously planned out and executed for each morning. Steve would be woken up quite early by Dixie's cold nose on his cheek, and her warm breath filling his nostrils with the sweet scent of a dog. Steve would roll out of bed, shower, and get dressed afterwards, and would then be promptly pushed into the kitchen. Dixie knew that the dog food bowl sitting in a crevice between Steve's refrigerator and the cabinets was _hers_ and that it should be filled every morning, afternoon, and evening. The water dish remained full to the brim all day, as Dixie tended to drink a lot. The dish was also placed on a ragged towel- because if Dixie was thirsty, you could be walking to the kitchen table (which was on the complete opposite side of the kitchen) and still slip on droplets of water from the old dog's muzzle and long, droopy ears which seemed to always drag in food, dirt, and water, no matter the fact that Dixie was tall enough for them to dangle just at the base of her skull. After both man and dog had eaten, Steve would take Dixie to the park; both for exercise and to possibly find the dog's owner.

In the four days that Steve had kept Dixie, he had learned to trust her enough to let her alone in the apartment…. Somewhat. It had started on that firs morning. Steve had work to do to SHIELD, and knew that Dixie couldn't go with him. And so, he put all the edibles and breakable things out of the dog's reach and left her there alone, consequences be damned. Steve just hoped that when he returned that everything was in one piece.

Unfortunately, Fate was a fickle creature, that always seemed to have it out for Steve Rogers. In his haste, he had left a couple of glass pieces low on a coffee table in the living room, and one on the kitchen table. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a problem; Dixie knew not to nose her way around those clear things. She also knew to not climb up on things- and couldn't climb most things over eye level. But on this particular day, Dixie had absolutely _nothing_ to distract her ever-working mind. Steve had thought about getting some bones, or rawhide chews for her the night before at the pet shop, but he ended up not, because of Dixie's ever-growing interest in the rodents in the back of the store.

And today, as Dixie was wandering the apartment (as her new human friend seemed to have so thoughtfully left doors open), familiar scent reached her nose. This particular scent she had smelled many times in her master's apartment and many more times outside in her days as a lost dog. Back in her old home, when she had smelled it the scent was immediately followed by the tang of blood as the outside cats feasted on the creature's carcass. Turning her head to follow the scent, her big amber eyes caught sight of a small, fat mouse.

Now, Dixie wasn't normally interested in anything so insignificant. Mice were the prey of cats, birds, and smaller dogs. Dixie's prey was often coons, and possums. Or at least it was, before her leg had been taken. After which, her master stopped taking her on so many hunts; and almost babied her to the point of being spoiled to a housedog. She had almost forgotten the joys of the chase.

But, as the small creature's little ears quivered, and his whiskers twitched, Dixie felt herself creeping almost silently toward it. The creature sensed her of course, and scurried off, looking for shelter. But he had roamed into an open space. There was nowhere to hide. All he could do was run.

Dixie followed, racing as fast as her legs would carry her, down the hallway and after the mouse. At the end of the hallway, where it merged with the living room, Dixie caught up to the mouse, and had snapped at its tail when her side made contact with the wall. She yelped a bit, and the sound mingled with the pained squeak of the mouse.

The mouse regained his footing quickly, and so did Dixie- though it took her a bit more fumbling. The mouse dashed under the coffee table, unable to make his way under the couch, and squeaked again in fright when his cover was knocked to the side. Dixie barreled into the table, knocking it aside in her blind chase after the mouse, and barely heard when glass shattered on the floor.

The mouse veered, sliding a bit and smearing a small amount of blood on the floor. One of Dixie's back paws slid over the dark stain, causing the old dog to slide, crashing once again into a wall. The mouse chanced a glance back, but from his place near the wall, he looked straight into the jaws of death.

Dixie's jaws clamped tight around the mouse's small body, and it gave a final squeak of agony. Dixie would have smiled in triumph. She had won! The mouse had been an extremely hard grab, though, and Dixie was winded. Leaving the mouse where it lie, she hauled herself up onto her paws. Where she had tipped over the table, a glass of water had fallen and shattered, leaving the liquid spilled across the floor. Dixie cleaned the floor without a murmur, and left for the kitchen and her water dish.

Her stomach hurt badly, thanks to her wild chase. As did the shoulder of her amputated leg. She shouldn't have given chase to that mouse. But having been born with little sense of regret, all Dixie could do was sit and wait for her aches to ease. She hadn't thought of her pups before running off after the mouse, but now there was the question if any had been hurt in all her slipping and sliding and running into walls.

But, pups aside, Dixie was proud of herself. And she was sure that her human friend would be proud too. The old dog didn't mind the broken glass all over the living room floor; she hadn't gotten cut, and therefore the glass didn't seem like _much_ of a threat. After taking her fill of water, Dixie lumbered slowly into the living room, and sat herself down on the couch. Sleep beckoned her, and soon, the old dog was lulled into a peaceful slumber.

Around 3 in the afternoon, she heard the heavy thuds of footsteps coming down the hall. She could smell Steve. Sliding off the couch, quickly, Dixie walked over to the wall where she had left the mouse, picked it up, and pranced excitedly over to the door.

Steve opened it a moment later, and smiled down at Dixie. His expression turned to one of confusion when he saw the mouse dangling from Dixie's jaws. Bending down, the man let the dog drop the creature, and looked it over. It was real. The poor creature's head was nearly ripped off, and it's back legs were injured. Steve looked at Dixie, and as he did, his gaze was drawn to the battleground that used to be his living room. His jaw dropped.

Dixie thumped her tail proudly on his leg as he stood, and followed him as he surveyed the damage. Dixie wasn't worried. She had killed the mouse! That creature could have made her friend sick! She was a good dog! Steve looked back at her again, and then back at the shattered glass and flipped coffee table.

The man could feel a headache coming on. He wasn't even gone for very long! And how could Dixie do so much damage just trying to kill a mouse? How could she have killed it at all? She only had three legs! Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Steve sighed, and smiled weakly at the dog. It was her job to kill small animals like that, and she couldn't have helped it.

After that day, Steve had been extremely careful to keep anything breakable at all out of Dixie's reach, and he made sure that when he left, there were no other doors open where Dixie might happen to see anything worth chasing.

On the third day, as Steve and Dixie were walking through the park, Dixie stopped dead in the middle of the walkway, nose twitching. She walked out to the point where her leash was stretched completely. Steve stepped forward to give her more moving room, and watched as she nosed through a thick bush. When the dog pulled her head back out of the foliage, she had something clamped between her jaws.

"C'mon, Dixie, drop it," Steve said, curious as to what it was.

The object was a crumpled piece of sketch paper. Steve uncrumpled it the best he could, and looked it over. It was a portrait of a young woman holding a tiny child. The woman looked harried, but her daughter was giggling loudly as she reached down to a big hound dog. The dog was tilting its head up to meet the child's hand.

Steve had to glance again at the hound dog in the portrait. It only had three legs. It had splotches, filled in various shades, and the very tip of the dog's tail had been bitten off. This dog was Dixie! Steve turned the paper over, and read;

_Mrs. Susanna, Baby Angelina, and Dixie; March 3, Carrie Anne Jameson_

Steve looked down at Dixie. She was smiling a doggy smile as she waited for the walk to continue.

"Is that your master?" Steve asked.

Dixie stood up and turned a circle, barking as she did. Steve turned the paper back over, studying the dog in it. That definitely was Dixie. But did that mean that the artist was her master? Not necessarily. Dixie could have recognized the artist's scent, if the dog herself had been modeling the picture. Perhaps the woman and her child in the picture had been Dixie's family.

If that was the case, he'd need to find this 'Mrs. Dickinson's' first name, and look her up to return Dixie. After all; every child deserved a dog. Steve looked back down at Dixie. He could believe that there was a little one in her family.

"Come on, Dixie, we're going to pay a little visit to Tony Stark."


	3. Chapter 3

_**All for the Love of a Dog**_

_**Chapter 3: Carrie Anne?**_

_**A/N: Yes, here is where we meet Dixie's real owner. If you're thinking that Carrie Anne is gonna meet Steve and fall in love and all that jazz, I'd have to say no. This isn't a romance story. Just hang with me, guys. And yes, I know, by all rights, in that last chapter, Dixie shouldn't have been able to catch the mouse. I also know that her pups probably would've been killed for all the times I had her crash into the wall. Again, just stay with me.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, just my characters and the story-line.**_

"Yeah, I heard you got a dog," Tony said with a grin. Upon raking his eyes over Dixie, his grin turned to a smirk, and he shook his head. "You sure know how to pick 'em, Cap."

Steve rolled his eyes and patted Dixie on the head. She licked his hand fondly, and looked on as Tony examined her master's sketch. Dixie knew who had drawn it, and she knew who the other humans in the picture were, too. It had been drawn a couple of years ago, when she, her master, and two of her master's friends went on a long trip.

"Jarvis, analyze the picture, and run a search for Carrie Anne Jameson, or this 'Mrs. Dickinson', that matches the picture, handwriting and such," Tony had said, without much interest in the subject.

"Yes, sir," Jarvis had replied.

Dixie looked curiously around the room, but Steve had a good grip on her, and wouldn't give her moving room. The man knew that Tony didn't exactly appreciate having a dog in his lab, and wasn't going to overstay his welcome. Steve and Tony were friends; but a dog and a laboratory don't go well together.

"Call me if you get anything?" Steve asked.

"Of course," Tony replied with a grin. "Well, if you know how to answer it, Capsicle."

With those words, Tony turned and got back to work. Steve gave a gentle tug on Dixie's leash, and the pair left the tower. Steve's initial intentions were to go back to his own apartment, but, remembering Dixie's incident with the mouse, decided it was best to get her something to occupy her mind.

He didn't know how much of a struggle Dixie had put up to catch the creature, and didn't know of the damage to her pups. But Dixie did. She had felt a good many of them; they would move now and then, kicking against her. But now they wouldn't. Maybe they were dead. Dixie didn't know, and she didn't have it in her to worry about some pups that she had never met before. Her own, live, human pup was probably looking for her. But Dixie didn't know how to get to where her master lived.

And so, Dixie contented herself with following Steve. Of course, she had to follow him anyways, but that wasn't her point. In her mind, the leash was just something there to keep her from lagging behind; not necessarily something attaching her to her human friend. And so, as she found herself being led into the pet shop, she instantly had her attention on the rodents in the back of the store.

Steve felt her tense up, and pulled her towards the dog bones before she could lunge and choke herself on the leash. These treats attracted her attention for the time being, and she sniffed at them eagerly. Steve smiled as he kneeled to her level, looking over the bones and chews with her.

"Like this, Dixie?" He asked, waving a rawhide knot in front of her nose.

Dixie sniffed at it a moment, but then turned her attention on the bigger bones. Rawhide was good for chewing, but the taste was bland. These bones however, had traces of meat still on them. Steve grabbed one and looked it over holding it out to Dixie. She mouthed it a bit, and Steve withdrew it from her reach. He placed it gently in a plastic hand basket, along with a couple of rawhide chews. Dixie turned her attention to the toys on the opposite side of the aisle.

She looked them over with interest, sniffing at them curiously. Steve picked up a couple of tennis balls and a tug-of-war rope. Dixie sniffed at them as he put them in the basket, but they didn't hold her interest like the bones did; except for one. Just as the pair was about to go on their way and check out, she caught a glimpse of a little stuffed toy. It wasn't terribly big, and was shaped and colored to look like a possum. Dixie walked closer to it, and picked it up, looking at her human friend with the saddest expression she could possibly muster. Steve smiled down at her, and kneeled before her, taking the toy.

He turned it over in his hands, and looked back at Dixie. The dog kept her sad, puppy face. The toy was well built, so it would hold up to rough-housing. Steve patted Dixie on the head and tossed the toy into the basket, scratching the dog's neck fondly.

"Come on, girl, we'll go to the park for a bit after this, and you can play with these," Steve said.

Dixie followed him eagerly, and sat straight and still while Steve paid for everything. The cashier from their last trip wasn't her today, and the young fellow who replaced him smiled kindly at her as he scanned ad bagged everything.

"Well aren't you a pretty girl?" he asked with a toothy smile.

Dixie wagged her tail in response, remembering a man who was a lot like this one.

"_Well ain't you a pretty ol' hound?" _

_His handsome blue eyes were locked on hers, as she wagged her tail at his words. He looked to her Master with a smile. He took her Master's arm and helped her cross the way into the old building._

Dixie looked back at the man. That wasn't Him. He had darker hair, and a younger smile on his face. This man was older, and didn't sound the same either.

Steve thanked the cashier, and led the way out of the store and towards the park. Dixie found herself lagging behind him. She was tired all of a sudden, and her bones ached. Steve didn't seem to really notice, and the kept on till they got to the park. Once there, Steve sat down on a bench, and shifted through the plastic bag that the cashier had given him. He fished out a tennis ball first, and held it in front of Dixie's nose.

The old dog sniffed it with interest. It smelled like Steve, the cashier man, and the meaty bones that were also in the bag. There was also a fresh, clean smell about it that grated on her nerves. It was _too_ clean and crisp. It needed to be played with, dirtied, and worn out. Dixie mouthed at it, and Steve withdrew his hand.

The man stood, and took a few steps to the side. Dixie followed him with her eyes, but remained sitting in front of the bench. Steve waved the ball a bit in her sight, before tossing it out towards the tree line.

"Go on, girl!" Steve urged.

He had been careful not to throw it too far, and guessed it would land right at or a bit into the trees. He smiled, when Dixie took off, careful not to lose her footing, and balancing herself well on her three legs. She wasn't as fast as a healthier, younger dog, of course, but she still had some speed left in her.

Dixie, as she ran, felt at least three years younger, with the grass and dirt being torn away in small patches and clumps by her big, clawed feet. The wind picked up her ears, and the flapped behind her head. Dixie's tongue lolled as she tasted the air. There were squirrels in the trees, and birds too; but they were not her targets. No, for some reason unknown to her, her human friend had chosen a simple green ball to be her prey, and had thrown it far, so she would have to chase it. Dixie saw it hit the ground right in front of a big oak tree, and it bounced off the trunk's face, flying towards another tree. But instead of hitting this one, and flying off in another direction, it landed in the soft loam beneath the tree. Dixie nosed around it, and grabbed the ball, jogging eagerly back to Steve.

"Good girl!" Steve called, taking the ball and ruffling Dixie's neck fur. He hugged her gently, and ruffled her ears.

Dixie licked his face, her tail thumping into his side. This was her favorite part- next to eating whatever her Master would give her, of course- and she basked in the attention.

After a few more tosses, Steve decided it was time for them to leave. They hadn't lost a single tennis ball, which Steve found surprising. But Dixie had gotten tired, and Steve knew it couldn't be good for her to overwork herself; even if she was having fun doing it.

There was a high pitched, chiming ring, and it took Steve a moment to realize that the noise was coming out of his own pocket. Pulling out his phone, Steve stared at the screen. A picture of Tony's face was on it, and the screen clearly said 'Slide to Unlock'. Steve momentarily panicked, not remembering how he was supposed to do this. _Don't dance, fool,_ he told himself.

Putting his finger inside a box on the screen, he slid his finger to the right, and the screen changed.

"Hello?" Steve asked, hoping he had done that right.

"_Hey, Capsicle,"_ Tony replied._ "I've got some stuff on your mystery dog owner; you may want to get down here."_

Before Steve could reply, his friend had hung up. Steve sighed, and looked down at Dixie.

"The nerve of some people," he said with a laugh. "That man can grate on anyone's nerves, Dixie."

Dixie laughed up at him, and woofed quietly, wagging her tail.

_**At Stark Tower**_

"Well, Cap," Tony said." I don't really know what to tell you."

The genius was studying the sketch from its position on one of his work tables.

"It was drawn by a lead pencil," Tony said warily. Steve blinked, not understanding.

"Aren't they all lead pencils?" He asked.

It was Tony's turn to blink. "Oh, my dear Captain," he said, putting his head in his hands. "It's a wonder you're all still up there," Tony muttered.

Steve was left, still confused, to ponder the meaning of his friend's words, while the man checked something over on one of his holographic screens.

"Anyways, This 'Mrs. Dickinson', we're pretty sure, is Susanna Dickinson; she was, apparently, one of the only Anglo survivors of the Battle of the Alamo. Definitely not this dog's owner," Tony said with a chuckle. "And now we get to the 'fun' part."

Steve braced himself. If Tony said something like that, it meant trouble. Most of the time, anyways.

"This Carrie Anne disappeared from the face of the earth four years ago. She made a reappearance last year, apparently. That, or someone assumed her identity, and carried on with her life. "

Steve was startled. "What do you mean she disappeared?"

"I mean, that she was going on some kind of field trip with her school, the bus crashed, and her body was never found. No part of her; nothing. Zip. Nada. No-thing. The same goes for her friend Theresa, and one of the teachers."

Steve scratched his head. Dixie looked on, with little interest. She knew_ exactly_ what had happened. She was there. She wouldn't have been there, but she was because her Master's family had pulled some strings. Truthfully, Dixie was glad. She had done her job, and protected her Master and friend.

Steve looked down at Dixie. Of course she would know. But there was no way to find out through her.

"Where does Carrie Anne live?"

"She used to be from Texas, but when she reappeared, she was here in New York with her brother," Tony said, jotting down the address.

Steve took it from him, and, after thanking his friend, led Dixie outside. It was getting late, and Dixie was no doubt exhausted from the events of the day. They would find Carrie Anne tomorrow.

That night, Dixie lay in her place in front of the couch, her eyes closed. Steve was asleep in his room, and she could hear his soft snores. He was safe. Was her Master safe? Dixie had no way of knowing. She missed her human Master.

As sleep invaded her mind, Dixie thought she caught the scent of her master. But maybe it was nothing….

_She was in his room again. Dixie knew that this man was incredibly sick. But her Master was determined to help him. She had her pencil, a rubber, and a piece of paper. Her place was on a stool by his bedside, where she could see him well. Dixie sat at her feet._

_The man was choking painfully, uttering words and phrases that Dixie couldn't understand. They were garbled, and strained; the sickness inside him contributing to his lack of voice. His fever was high; so high in fact that he was delirious. _

_Finally, after what seemed like hours, he quieted. The Commander came into the room and bid her Master and the man goodnight. The Commander had helped her Master; Dixie liked him. And so, as her tail thumped one last time for him, she looked to her Master._

"_C'mon, Dixie," she said, moving her stool so that no one would trip over it._

_Her Master would stay a long while in the sick man's room, waiting for something it seemed. Maybe she knew something that Dixie didn't. On this particular night, her Master seemed extremely upset. She was finicky, and clutched Dixie close. And she didn't wish to leave anyone. The past twelve or thirteen days (as Dixie had no way of telling which) were agony for her young Master. _

_They had been in here long after midnight. Dixie could sense the earth coming alive again. As Dixie thought this over, she suddenly became aware of a strange quiet. It was if the whole world had gone silent; just her listen for one thing. Footsteps. Thousands of footsteps. Her Master was startled awake when the attack began, and leapt to her feet. Dixie followed suit, sticking close to her master._

_What happened next wasn't clear. There was a long period of fighting outside; when suddenly the door burst open, and the noises of war grew louder. A handful of soldiers barged in, and pushing her Master to the side, looked about the room._

_Dixie struggled to get free and attack them, but her Master had a tight grip on her collar. The soldiers lifted the sic man's blanket off of his head, and stepped back, shooting at him. Blood spattered on Dixie and her Master, along with something that the dog couldn't quite place._

_Dixie's Master was screaming, trying to keep hold of Dixie and watching through watery eyes as the soldiers stabbed the dead man repeatedly, crying out to avenge their fallen comrades. They didn't know that the man was sick. _

_Dixie spun, and bit her Master on the arm. Her teeth tore through the human's skin, and Dixie was free. Her Master lunged to grab hold of her once more, but was thrown back against the wall by a soldier who thought she planned on attacking. Dixie turned to her Master, but the taste of blood was still in her mouth, and Dixie wanted to fight. She went to bite the soldier, but found him already gone._

_Her Master was crying, back pressed against the soiled wall. _

Dixie's eyes opened slowly. She had been whimpering, and kicking in her sleep. She could still taste blood in her mouth. It made her miss her Master. What she even okay? She was with her brother; but that didn't mean that the events of that night didn't still haunt her. Dixie didn't want to go back to sleep.

And so, lifting herself gingerly onto her paws, Dixie trudged to the kitchen. There was still food in her bowl, she noticed, and helped herself to a few mouthfuls and a long gulp of water. Without much thought, Dixie then went to the bathroom. The tiles were cold, and felt good on her side as Dixie lay in front of the shower. But the dog couldn't get to sleep. She could hear Steve's snoring, and decided it best to check up on her human friend.

Nudging his door open with her nose, Dixie peeked into the room. He seemed okay, curled on the far side of the bed. He had been lying on the nearer side of the bed, Dixie noticed; the sheets had been twisted and pulled over to the opposite side. He must be a restless sleeper. With a huge yawn, Dixie jumped to her hind legs, putting her front paw up on the bed. Steve didn't notice. With great difficulty, and a bit of wiggling, Dixie found herself lying on the bed, her face pressed against the man's back.

After a bit more shifting, Dixie was at the head of the bed, with her head and neck over a pillow, her nose in Steve's hair.

The next morning, Steve awoke to find himself face to face with Dixie. Somehow in the night, either he or the dog had shifted, and now she was curled around his head, snoring in his face. Steve laughed, and pushed her nose away, before sitting up. Dixie's eyes opened, she lifted her head, and gave Steve the dirtiest look she could muster.

How dare he interrupt her sleep? With a great yawn, the dog stood up and dragged herself lazily off the bed. Steve chuckled, and stood up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked at the clock. 5 o'clock.

Dixie sat in the living room as Steve showered, idly chewing on one of her bones. When he stepped out, smelling clean and looking more awake, Dixie jumped up and wagged her tail, trotting into the kitchen. Steve followed, and, after pouring her a fresh bowl of food, set about cooking himself some bacon and eggs. Dixie watched with interest as he did, and sat at his feet. _Surely_ he could throw her just a _little_ piece. After all; meat was much more appetizing than the kibble he had been giving her the past few days.

After breakfast, Steve had –like usual- taken Dixie for a walk through the park. As they walked, Steve looked once again at the strip of paper that Tony had scribbled the address down on. Should He take Dixie now and just hand her over? Or should he make sure that this really was Dixie's owner? Steve opted for the latter, and led Dixie back to his apartment. With her bones and stuffed possum, she wouldn't cause any trouble anyways, he hoped.

Surprisingly, Dixie's owner lived half-way across town. Steve couldn't imagine how Dixie had made it as far as she had without being hit by a car or picked up by animal control. Steve checked the address one last time before knocking on the door. He expected the person to answer the door would be in her mid-twenties, and perhaps well-built to keep up with a dog like Dixie. The person might have been up for the day already, if they were an early-riser, but Steve assumed that the brother would probably answer the door.

Steve was wrong.

After a few minutes, he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. There were apparently wood floors, because as the person neared the door, the floors creaked. There was a stumble, and the sound of something solid hitting the door, accompanied by a muffled 'oof'.

When the door finally opened, Steve was looking at air. He glanced down to see a short teenager. The girl had a mournful expression on her face. She was dressed for the day already; wearing a black button-up shirt and long black skirt, but without shoes. She was rubbing her forehead, having apparently hit it against the door by accident trying to look through the peep-hole.

"Yes sir, how can I help you?" she drawled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Her voice was scratchy, Steve noticed as he tried to think of what he was going to say.

"Does a Carrie Anne Jameson live here?" he asked.

He expected her to close the door for a moment, and perhaps bring out an older sister-in-law who could possibly be Dixie's owner. He wouldn't have been surprised if Carrie Anne had been a sister, and had died four years ago in the crash.

The last thing he expected was for her to say was that she was that very same Carrie Anne Jameson he'd been looking for.


End file.
